Laila Nazari vs. Sara Conner - Collision Course

Sara’s voice had devolved in a muddled mismatch of garbled curses, her thought processes not capable of doing much more at the moment. It was a testament to the sort of pain she was, worse than anything she could remember in her entire career, extreme and excruciating. But then, maybe it wasn’t just the pain, but the person who was doing it to her - she couldn’t recall hating an opponent as much as she did Laila. Not just for ruining her debut, but the smug look on her face, that quiet stare, the way she’d carried herself the entire match…

It was like a burning ember in her brain, just burning everything it touched. Plain hate, nothing more.

But she couldn’t do much more than Laila at the moment, not even as her hair was yanked to pull her up again. Sara’s fighting was even more futile than before, barely able to squirm about as she was hauled up. At first she was confused, as the woman helped her up the turnbuckle, using a considerable amount of effort to make it happen - but then Laila came up from beneath, and the picture was clear. She was going for something big, the final move, and there wasn’t going to be any escaping it.

Didn’t mean she was going to go quietly.

”I hate you.” She whispered through her gritted teeth as Sara prepared for the plunge. ”I hate you, and I want you to know - this isn’t over.”

And that was all she had before the plunge, before she brought down hard, crashing into the mat with a devastating, resonant force that seemed to shake the stadium. She went flopping away after the impact and wound up rolling on her chest, a lifeless heap, motionless save for the occasional twitch.

Laila could have been merciful in this match. She could have gone for a pinfall earlier, or a knockout, or anything to to minimize the amount of needless agony that she was putting Sara through. But then, Laila would have told you that the agony wasn't needless: Sara had almost crippled her arm earlier with that brutal kick of hers, and even now, as she hoisted Sara up onto the ropes, it still burned with a pain that set her teeth against each other. No, Sara had to be taught a lesson for that.

Even as she managed to get Sara on her shoulders, she heard the American mumbling about how much she hated her, about how much she was going to hurt her the next time they fought. About how this was not over.

"I don't care," Laila replied flatly, before propelling the two of them off the corner post.

The combined impact of the two of seemingly shook the entire stadium as Laila cannoned her opponent back first into the mat. The impact caused Laila to jacknife up into a sitting position, taking several deep breaths: that finisher had taken much more effort than it should have thanks to her hurting arm, and it was probably an unwise thing to do given her physical state.

A glance back at the motionless Sara confirmed that it had been worth it.

Wordlessly, Laila crawled over to the stunned American, lying her own musclebound body across that of her opponent's and hooking one of her legs. In an instant, the ref was next to them and the countdown began.

"ONE..."

Sara wasn’t quite unconscious, but she wished she was. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with some much of the crazy pain coursing through her system. Wouldn’t have to to deal with the audience cheering on someone who didn’t deserve it. Wouldn’t have to feel Laila crawling over her and hoisting up her leg, going for her pin.

”2…!”

To her credit, Sara stayed true to her style right to the end, putting up a fight - it wasn’t much of a fight, wouldn’t amount to much of anything, but it was a fight. A twitch. A little squirm. Nothing that would’ve been noticed by anyone except the most sharp-eyed observer, and in the end, it didn’t matter. The referee's hand came down one final time, and that was that.

”3…!”

Sara’s body relaxed the moment she heard the count, knowing there was no more point to resistance and that saving her strength was crucial. It was over. She didn't have to like it, but that was the fact she had to deal with.

Accepting her fate - as much as she was mentally able - she laid back, closed her eyes, and wallowed in pain, trying to move as little as possible to keep from agitating the litany of injuries she’d accrued.

And with that, the bell rang. It was over.

Wearily, knelt upriught off of Sara, the American lying in a battered heap underneath her. As much as Laila wanted to stay that this was the ultimate fate of anyone who crossed her, the truth of the matter was that this match had been a lot closer than she had anticipated. A lot closer and a lot painful. Grimacing, she stood up to her full height, grimacing as she clutched her now throbbing arm-- she would be a few days in physio for that alone. Even as she grimaced, she nonetheless pressed a booted foot down on the prone Sara's chest, in a dominant pose that would rub salt in the other woman's wounds.

"If you say this isn't over," she said through clenched teeth, "then be ready for more pain if you ever stand across from me in the ring again."

And with that, Laila turned and hobbled out of the arena, battered but still standing, ignoring the crowd and her downed opponent as she strode up the arena ramp and disappeared from view.


The Winner: Laila Nazari by pinfall